


Jimmy Olsen: Private Eye

by RakshaTheDemon



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Crack, Detective Noir, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RakshaTheDemon/pseuds/RakshaTheDemon
Summary: The Superfam goes LARPing





	Jimmy Olsen: Private Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This ridiculousness is very much the fault of Kalikoke and Ultranos.
> 
> Thanks to Supercatandfriends for editing.

It’s not the _worst_ idea James has ever heard. Of course, he once worked a story where the suspect thought the best way to hide from the cops would be to wear a fake moustache, so perhaps that’s setting the bar a bit low.

What’s really surprising is that the idea came from _Lena_ , of all people.

“You want to LARP,” he says, incredulous.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’ll be fun. We get to wear costumes, and pretend to be these cool characters--like being kids, but with lots of booze.”

“No, yeah, I’m sure it’d be fun.” He’s not, actually, but there’s no reason to tell her that. “I’m just surprised that you know what LARPing _is_.”

“I went to MIT.”

“That doesn’t really explain anything.”

“It does if you’ve been to MIT.”

\------

It’s a few weeks before the subject comes up again. This time Kara is there for the conversation, and she’s sold almost immediately. Not long after that the rest of the group gets pulled into the idea as well. Even J’onn shows an interest, which has everyone baffled.

“I’ve never tried LARPing,” he says one evening when they’re all in Kara’s apartment, “but I do enjoy the occasional game of Dungeons and Dragons, so I imagine I’d enjoy this as well.”

“You’re kidding,” Winn says, leaning forward. “You play D&D?”

“It’s been awhile, but yes. I have a fearsome human bard who has gone on many a heroic adventure.”

“I’m sorry,” Winn says, “a ‘fearsome bard’? _Fearsome_?”

“Of course. He has the combined abilities of a mid-level fighter and a high-level thief, plus spellcasting abilities. Truly formidable.”

“...What edition are you _playing_?”

“The best edition. First.”

Lena clears her throat to get everyone’s attention away from the pained noise Winn is making. “Like I was saying earlier, I think this could be a lot of fun. I’ve got a setting guide for doing a sort of forties noir thing, and I know a great space we could use. It’s a little outside of National City, so we could even treat it as a mini-vacation. A weekend getaway where we all talk like characters from a hard boiled detective story and pretend to try and murder each other.”

James still isn’t sure he likes the idea, but Lena’s enthusiasm is catching. And really, what’s the worst that could happen?

“I’m in,” he says before he can think about it too much. There’s a chorus of “me too”s from around the room that has Lena beaming at all of them. He honestly doubts it’ll be much fun, but it’s nice to see her smiling.

\----

It’s several more weeks before they’re able to actually go on Lena’s “weekend getaway” without some crisis or other messing up their plans. She takes them to a freshly renovated luxury hotel, which everyone quickly notices is almost entirely empty.

“I rented it for the weekend,” Lena explains.

“The whole _building_?” Alex gives voice to what most of them are thinking.

“I wasn’t sure how much space we would need.”

Room keys are given out, a bellhop takes their luggage (he waves away the tip James offers, saying it was already taken care of), and they’re all lead to a conference room where lunch has been provided.

“I hope everyone likes sushi,” Lena says.

“I should’ve made friends with a Luthor years ago,” Winn replies as they all take seats.

Everyone loads their plates with food (Kara taking perhaps a _bit_ more than is reasonable) and glasses of warm sake are passed out.

When the commotion dies down, J’onn begins explaining how the game is going to work. “Lena and I have decided that I will be refereeing the game, along with a few volunteers.”

“He means ‘low-level agents who are desperate to make the boss like them’,” Alex says. J’onn does not correct her.

“The setting is Metropolis in the 1940s. You’re all going to take part in a hardboiled crime story. These,” he began passing out notecards, “contain your roles. There are a few good guys, and a few criminals. And one of you is secretly the villain behind the whole plot.”

James glances at Lena, and then immediately feels guilty. That guilt is eased somewhat by the realization that he is far from the only person to have done so.

“I realize that my heritage gives me a certain reputation, but the roles are _random_. I could easily be a cop, or a bootlegger, or,” she takes her card from J’onn and immediately deflates. “Or a wealthy business heiress. Because of course.”

There are snickers from around the table.

“Still,” Lena continues, “the roles _are_ completely random. The villain could just as easily be Kara.”

“Nope,” Kara says after looking at her own card. “I’m just a legitimate business woman from New Jersey.”

“Kara that is the single most transparent lie I’ve ever heard,” Alex says.

Kara covers most of the card with her hand and then holds it so that Alex can see part of it. “That’s my bluff score.”

“...That is the most convincing lie I’ve ever heard.”

James takes his own card, silently hoping that it will be a minor role that will allow him to just sit back while everyone else has their fun. He turns it over to read the first line.”

 _The Detective_.

Well, so much for that.

\------

“Okay,” James begins as he takes his seat behind the table that they’re calling his desk, “so I’m Jimmy Olsen, Private Eye. It’s early, right?”

J’onn gives a confirming nod.

“I don’t remember ever reading a detective novel where the guy was a morning person, so I guess I pulled an all-nighter. Probably fell asleep at my desk.” He tries to recall every hardboiled detective trope he knows. “Or passed out drunk? There’s probably a half-empty bottle of scotch here.”

A Pepsi bottle is helpfully placed on the table.

“Thanks. I’m not awake yet though, that probably happens when you knock on the door,” he says to Lena.

She takes that as her cue.

\----

It takes a good seven or eight knocks for Jimmy to accept that the person isn’t going to just give up and walk away. He forces himself to sit upright, ignoring the brass band currently doing a tour of the inside of his skull. “Come in,” he calls, not yet wanting to expend the effort of standing up.

He’s not prepared for the sight that walks through the door, but then who would be? A dame like that, with gorgeous gams and figure to die for, dressed to the nines? She belongs in a mansion somewhere, not a dingy office the half the lights don’t even work and the rodents might as well be charged rent.

“You Jimmy Olsen?”

“That’s what it says on my door.”

“My name is Lena Luthor,” she says, and it’s a struggle to not let the shock of that name show on his face. There is definitely no reason for a woman like that to be anywhere near his office. “I want to hire you.”

“Now what would a Luthor want with a second-rate PI when she could hire literally anyone?”

“I’ve done my research, Mr. Olsen, and I’d hardly call your work second-rate.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Then I’ll cut to the chase. I’m being blackmailed and I need your help to stop whoever’s behind it.”

And there it is. Of course she’s not gonna go to some high-profile detective, or even the actual police. If someone has incriminating evidence on her then she’s not going to want anyone credible finding out. But a nobody like him? That’s a low risk.

He wonders if he should feel insulted, but that concern is outweighed by the feeling that he might actually get paid for this job.

“Fifty a day, plus expenses,” he says.

“You handle this problem quickly and quiety, and I’ll give you triple that.” She begins laying out the details. There aren’t many. “It started a week ago. A letter was put in the mailbox, said that I owed someone, and I would either pay with my money or my reputation.”

Jimmy silently wonders if a Luthor’s reputation was even worth anything.

“Did it say what they’ve got on you?” is what he actually asks.

“Not in that first letter, no. At the time I dismissed it as someone just trying to scare me, but then yesterday this came.” She produces an envelope from inside her coat and places it onto his desk. He reaches for it, but she keeps a hand over it. “I expect full confidentiality on this.”

Her eyes are staring into his, and for a moment he wonders if he’s making a deal with a devil. But she can pay, and at this point he’s more than a little curious.

“You have my word,” he says. There’s a pause while she seems to debate whether or not to turn around and walk out the door.

Jimmy tells himself that it’s just her money that he’d miss.

Eventually she takes her hand off the envelope, letting him take it. There’s no address or postage marks anywhere. Just the name “Lena Luthor”, written by typewriter.

“If you’d hired me a week ago I could’ve staked out the mailbox and caught the person slipping this in there.”

“I’m already paying someone to do that. As you can see, they failed.”

Well then. Jimmy decides he needs to have a conversation with that sap once they’re done here.

He opens the envelope. Inside is a short letter, typed, naming the price and explaining how Ms. Luthor is to pay it. It mentions a picture, but there’s nothing else in the envelope.

“I can’t do my job without all the evidence,” he says.

“I have a hundred and fifty a day that says you’ll have to,” she retorts.

“I don’t need your money,” he begins, but he’s cut off by the lights suddenly going out. The room goes dark save for the bit of light filtering through the door window.

He misses three lousy electric bill payments…

She raises an eyebrow but mercifully doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll just grab my coat.”


End file.
